Stay
by YellowDancer
Summary: Trish and Dante seem to have it all together, but Lady knows better. Why did Trish decide to go off on her own and why does Dante seem to be so bitter over it? Lady thinks she has an answer.
1. Cosmopolitan

**Author's Note:**

**This story takes place in a sort of limbo between the anime, the games and my own imagination. For those of you who have read my Witch Hunter Robin-Devil May Cry story, this does not take place in the same universe. For more about my rants about the anime/DMC4, see my notes at the end of this chapter. If enough readers of Libera Me and Confutatis make the crossover with me into the DMC world, I'd be happy to include a quick primer in the next chapter for you to sum you up on the games, anime, etc. Let me know if you're interested.**

**This story essentially takes place in the anime world except that there is no little girl named Patty. Also, I think that everyone looks like they do in DMC4 because Dante's slightly older look is growing on me—so long as he doesn't look like Bill Pullman. Follow the link on my profile for more about that… Also, I'm assuming in this story that when Dante and Trish were partners before Trish decided to split up, there were no "benefits" in their partnership—which is not the way I usually write them.**

**This story is a Trish x Dante pairing (or at least will be) but I want to make sure that any Lady fans out there know that I like her too and want to strive to make her just as cool. I might even end up pairing her up with someone in the end…Vergil might even wander into this story before it's over.**

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Trish sipped at her cosmopolitan, drinking for the flavor more than for the ever so brief illusion of numbness it could give her. It was still early enough in the evening that the bar was mostly empty—a fact that pleased her since it meant she wouldn't have to waste her time turning down offers from desperate men. While she used to spend a fair amount of time at this particular bar, it had been over a year since she had visited it—mostly because she was never in town long enough to need its services. 

"It's been a long time, pretty lady," the bartender said casually, sliding a new drink her way when he saw that she was running dry. Though she might have taken offense to his statement had he been one of the bar's patrons, she knew Bill well enough to know he simply wasn't that kind of man. "I've missed your gorgeous face around here," he added with a shy smile. "So, where have you been all this time?"

"Oh, I've been here and there," she replied vaguely, plucking the lime slice from the rim of her new drink. "Mostly there."

"Got tired of Dante, then?"

Trish regarded him with a careful smile, knowing Dante was not necessarily a well-received guest at the bar considering the number of times he had managed to damage the premises. "Demon hunters are in high demand. I thought it would be more efficient to split up and cover more ground." Lazily swirling the ruby liquid in her drink, she added, "Hope he hasn't been causing you too much trouble."

"Nah." He shrugged, mindlessly wiping the bar with a rag. "He doesn't come around much anymore either, and when he does he tends to keep to himself. He seems lonely lately."

Raising an eyebrow at him, Trish took a sip of her drink. Though she had originally been intending to avoid Dante on her trip through town, Bill's words sent a pang of guilt through her; if even the bartender had noticed, then Dante must really be down.

Lost in thought, Trish didn't recognize that someone had entered the bar until she heard the stool next to her whine against the floor. Trish immediately recognized the dark haired woman who perched on the stool with a scowl a moment later. She glared at the bartender and demanded, "Give me something strong. I don't care what. Make it strong enough that I'll forget why I started drinking by the time I'm done."

Grinning in understanding, he rushed off to fill her order.

Trish wasn't sure if Lady had even noticed her, but Lady quickly disposed of that question by commenting bluntly, "I didn't know you were back in town."

While she and Lady were certainly on better terms than they had been when they first met, Trish always sensed a hint of rivalry in Lady's voice when they talked, as if she couldn't help but feel they were in competition with each other. Exactly what prize they were competing for was up for debate. Whether it was fastest draw, most demons killed or best looking demon huntress, it had never really mattered to Trish. Good competition was hard to come by.

"Only for a little while," Trish replied. "Just passing through on my way to my next job."

Lady nodded. "He's impossible, you know," she announced abruptly.

Smiling wanly, Trish took another drink, realizing they really had little to talk about without the conversation quickly focusing on Dante. Still, it would have been nice to leave him out of it for a little bit longer. She craved normal conversation with another female—conversation that didn't have to do with hunting demons or purchasing new weapons. Every so often, Trish thought it might be nice to have a normal human conversation with a normal human about something boring like getting highlights in her hair or shopping for new clothes.

Nevertheless, Lady wasn't the best example of a normal human despite her very human blood. She could keep up with the demons without breaking a sweat, but it took a lot of dedication on her part to maintain such skill—enough dedication that she didn't have much time left over for living a normal life. The thought always made Trish wistful; Lady had the opportunity to be something that Trish could never be no matter how hard she tried, but she simply wasn't interested.

Continuing despite Trish's silence, Lady grumbled, "Lately he has just been such a…" She made an incomprehensible sound as she snatched at her drink the moment the bartender slid it toward her and threw back a gulp. "A complete ass," she finished finally. "He's completely antisocial, sarcastic twenty-four/seven, and even moodier than usual. And then," Lady focused on Trish, anger glinting in her multihued eyes, "he refuses to even shave properly anymore. He's got this constant five o'clock shadow that's all scruffy and…ugh, it's so annoying!"

Trish blinked at her wide-eyed, thinking—not for the first time—that at least half of Lady's frustration with Dante was due to the pent up sexual tension between them. But thinking about that only made her feel vaguely sad, despite the fact that she had absolutely no right to feel that way. "Has something happened?" she asked casually.

"No, but I almost wish something would. He's completely unmanageable and I'm sick of it." Huffing as she tossed back the remainder of her drink and tapped the bar to request another, Lady shook her head. "I know why you must have left in the first place. How could you ever stand being his partner? I don't think he understands the meaning of the word compromise."

Staring down at her empty glass, Trish considered her response and decided to avoid the question entirely. After all, her reasons for leaving were becoming less clear to her every day. "Why do you keep hanging around him?" she asked instead, returning the focus to Lady. "You have no obligation to torture yourself by trying to keep him in line. He's a big boy. He can take care of himself—and it sounds like you'd be much happier without him."

Lady sighed deeply. "I left him behind before. We were both barely more than kids back then and he was still raw over what had happened with Vergil. I realized pretty fast that there was nothing I could do to bring him out of his funk while I was still brooding about my father, so I decided to move on."

Pushing her glass aside, Trish rested her chin against her palm, brushing hair out of her face so she could see Lady more clearly. She knew very little about how the two of them had first met, and while she had been curious about their history, she had never felt that it was her place to ask.

Shaking her head with a sour smile, Lady continued, "I was so self righteous back then and he was such a shameless flirt."

Trish laughed. "And he isn't now?"

"He's different." Lady looked up at her with a strange expression. "He's sarcastic and seductive as hell, but he never lets his guard down. Back then, he was more fragile somehow…there were chinks in his armor. It was annoying how he was constantly pushing the envelope, always trying to charm me out of my pants, but it was also somehow endearing. I refused him at every turn, but he never crossed the line or tried to force me into something against my will."

Nodding in understanding, Trish concluded, "You regret it."

Lady looked at her sharply, but did not respond.

"You regret turning him down," Trish elaborated.

"Hell no," Lady replied quickly. "There's no way I'd let him win without a fight."

Trish smiled. Lady was still denying the truth. Returning her glass to the bar, she said firmly, "Dante is neither subtle nor deep. He's not going to pick up on what you want if you don't come out and tell him. So, if you want him, then you need to take the initiative." Leaving a pile of cash on the bar for her drinks, Trish slipped off her barstool and reached for the jacket she had slung across the stool next to her.

Lady caught her arm suddenly and she met Lady's intent gaze in surprise. "Why would you give me advice like that?" Lady demanded, her eyes narrowed.

Uncertain, Trish replied slowly, "It's fairly obvious how you feel about him—he wouldn't annoy you so much if you weren't attracted to him."

Her finger's tightening on Trish's wrist, Lady frowned. "It's pointless. He might have been chasing my ass back then, but I'm not the one he spends his time brooding about now. I'm not so deluded as to think I have a chance."

"Really? Who's this new woman?" Trish asked blankly, utterly confused.

"Are you saying you seriously don't know?" Lady shook her head incredulously. "Or is it that you truly don't return his feelings? Is that why you left? Because he wanted something you couldn't give him?"

Trish's jaw dropped and she tried to cover her shock with a laugh. "You were talking about me?"

"Yeah," Lady said as if Trish was crazy. "He only stares at you every minute you're around and starts pining for you the second you leave."

"Dante doesn't pine for anyone," Trish protested, feeling as if she were being forced into uncertain territory. She had drawn conclusions about Lady's desires long ago, but she was far less certain of her own.

"He pined for Vergil," Lady pointed out. "I figured out what he looks like when he's pining pretty early on."

"Then perhaps you're confusing carnal desire with his longing for family. Dante is such a natural flirt that I wouldn't doubt he could flirt with his own brother without batting an eye, but his motivations are hard to read sometimes."

Lady grimaced and looked like she wanted to say something, but she held her tongue. Her silence only intensified Trish's insecurity and she found herself wondering what it might mean. Then she realized her argument probably didn't make a lot of sense to Lady because she didn't know why Trish might be considered family in the first place.

"Listen," Lady said finally, her expression painfully serious. "I know we haven't always been on the best of terms, you and I. And I imagine part of that has to do with the fact that I was intimidated by you." Trish raised an eyebrow, but let Lady continue. "The first time I saw the two of you together I finally understood where the Dante I once knew had gone. He was still there in that heated gaze he turned on you. And I was jealous. I had known him a long time and had always imagined I had some kind of secret hold over him, that despite the endless stream of leggy, brainless women he seduced, if he had the choice he would still choose me over them in the end. Then you came along and I knew right away that I was wrong."

"Are you saying I'm leggy and brainless?" Trish asked with a smirk, trying to make light of the grueling conversation.

Lady met her gaze sharply, effectively shredding Trish's attempt at humor. "I'm saying that he was seducing those women because he was always looking for you and none of them could quite match up. He might have chosen me over them, but he would never choose me over you."

Her mouth dry despite the fact that she had only just finished her drink, Trish shook her head. "I think you're selling yourself short, Lady. And even if you weren't…Dante and I…our relationship is complicated." She couldn't quite bring herself to tell Lady exactly why she had been created or who she had been made to resemble, but it seemed important to impress upon her that Dante's feelings for her were complex at best.

Smiling sourly, Lady looked away, fingers tracing absently over the wood grain of the bar. "I don't think it is to him. I think it's really simple."

Trish shook her head slowly, but didn't reply. It had never been simple and Trish had gone off on her own partially because she was tired of dealing with the constant complications. She had a hard time imagining Dante could ever see her as anything other than a poor reproduction of his mother, and while she had not been exempt from his lewd jokes or teasing touches, she had never truly believed they meant anything at all to him.

"Talk to him," Lady insisted. "At least find out whether my theory holds any water."

"I was hoping to avoid him on this trip," Trish said feebly though she was quickly realizing that there was no point in trying to convince Lady that her theory was ridiculous without proof to back it up.

"If he finds out you've been in town and didn't stop by to say hello he is going to be even more difficult to deal with than usual. Please, for my sake, pay him a visit."

"Okay," Trish finally gave in with a sigh. "I'll test your theory, but if it turns out you're wrong, will you start giving yourself a little more credit? Dante wouldn't let you hang around if he didn't like you."

Lady shrugged. "Sure. But I really don't think I'm wrong." She wasn't lying and her surety was downright unnerving.

"We'll see."

Throwing her jacket around her shoulders, Trish stalked out of the bar, waving back at Lady over her shoulder. She should have known better than to stop off at the bar on her way through town. She might as well have been asking to run into someone she knew. And now she was trapped.

Jumping on her bike and taking off down the street, Trish tried very hard not to consider the fact that part of her just might have been looking for a reason to see Dante all along.

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**Author's Note:**** The next chapter will be Dante's point of view and should be up before too long. I'd appreciate hearing what you think about it so far.  
**

**Now for the rest of my ranting about the DMC-verse if anyone is interested in hearing it.**

**While I mostly enjoyed what I've seen of the anime, I was annoyed that it not only ignored any overarching plot of the DMC series but it also did some strange things with characters. I found it odd that Lady looked almost exactly the same as she did in DMC3 when it must have been a lot later in the timeline and I was bothered by the severe lack of Trish stories. **

**I'm already preparing to be disappointed by the DMC4 story as well because of the fact that Nero looks like a total whiner and it irks me that they replaced Dante with someone who looks a lot like him but "has no relation." But anyway, I was excited to hear that Trish and Lady would make an appearance in 4, but when I saw the trailer, I realized that they seem to be lifting their new characterization directly from the anime. We'll just have to see...  
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	2. Whiskey Sour

**Author's Note:**

**You might be noticing an alcohol theme here in chapter titles. Alcohol is not going to be a theme of the story necessarily, but when I was trying to come up with a title for the first chapter I thought it would be a fun naming convention to name them all after mixed drinks. The drinks themselves won't necessarily always appear in the chapter, but some portion of the name will. I'm such a geek.**

**I have made a point of writing Dante a little differently here than I normally do. Usually I make him out to be nicer and a little less of a jerk, but he really can be a total arrogant ass in the games at times, so I thought it would be interesting to try writing him a little more like that. I hope you'll forgive him. :) I also tend to write these kinds of scenes from the girl's point of view most of time. Being a girl myself, that's probably only natural, but I thought it might be interesting to try a truly hormonal male perspective since I attempt it so rarely. Hope I managed to pull it off.**

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**Whiskey Sour**

Dante was dozing in his favorite chair, his feet resting on his desk and a magazine open over his face to block out the harsh light of the setting sun. He had been up nearly seventy-two hours straight finishing up a couple jobs that just wouldn't die—in a manner of speaking. Lady had shown up at the last one to help him out though she hadn't been invited, claiming that he was in no shape to fight demons on his own. Just thinking about her nerve annoyed him all over again and he tossed the magazine across the room with a scowl just to have something to throw.

The woman was driving him absolutely crazy. She ran her own business and competed with him for jobs, and yet she still felt the need to meddle in his life every other day. Out of respect for their history, he couldn't quite bring himself to mouth off at her, but the prospect was getting more tempting all the time. She mothered him more than Trish had when she was around, and it didn't help that she also seemed to be flaunting her body in his face at every opportunity.

Not that he didn't enjoy the view. She might have lost some of the innocent girl appeal she had when he met her at Temen-ni-gru all those years ago, but that innocence had been replaced by a seductive fire in her eyes and a swing to her hips that raised his body temperature despite his best intentions. He couldn't deny the fact that he was attracted to her—who wouldn't be? But he had learned a few things about himself since his reckless youth.

At the top of that list was the fact that he didn't sleep with women he respected. It was pathetic, but true. And he respected Lady—he would be an idiot not to, and probably dead, too, if she ever found out. But it wasn't just that he respected her as a peer and a rival. She was like a little sister to him—an annoying, busybody little sister. Sleeping with her had hardly any appeal at all because he knew it would end in disaster; his heart wouldn't be in it and the repercussions of that kind of misstep would be far too painful.

That wasn't to say that he was incapable of sleeping with a woman he respected—he just didn't make a habit of it. He satisfied his body's needs from time to time because his demon blood made denying those impulses nearly impossible, but he usually chose nameless women who were more than willing to fill his need with no strings attached. They used him as surely as he used them, but it was better than using someone he cared about simply to fulfill a physical requirement. While she was a lot stronger than she used to be, Lady was still fragile in many ways emotionally, and he couldn't forgive himself if he added to her emotional burdens out of nothing more than curiosity and lust.

Sighing and deciding that he wasn't going to be drifting off to sleep any time soon, Dante sat up in his chair, heavy boots landing on the floor with a thud. What he needed right now was some alcohol. He rummaged around in the bottom drawer of his desk for that old bottle of whiskey he had hidden there after Lady's latest prohibitionist rage. Occasionally, when she was tired of his procrastination, she would scour his house for alcohol and throw away everything she found just to make him get off his ass and get to work. Alcohol, after all, was expensive, and he had to earn money in order to buy more.

The front door swung open with a creak and Dante paused in his search without looking up. The visitor's boots stepped quietly inside, something about the gait immediately suggesting femininity to him. "What?" he demanded, finally fishing his bottle of whiskey out of the drawer. "Did your voice finally recover from all that shrieking so you could pick up where you left off?" He knew that it might be a client and he should probably be a little nicer just in case, but he decided he would cross that bridge when—or if—he came to it.

The door clicked shut, but his guest did not make a noise.

Feeling a bit foolish as his certainty of his visitor's identity began to waver, he sat up slowly and squinted through the harshly angled light to make out the figure leaning back against the door. Dressed in black leather that hugged her body like a second skin, she smirked at him from beneath dark sunglasses, full red lips curving upward deliciously.

Struck dumb for a moment, Dante simply sat there and stared, his eyes reacquainting themselves with the generous curves of her willowy body and his hand clenching on the neck of the whiskey bottle. Her smile widened and she pushed away from the door, endlessly long legs striding across the floor toward him with captivating sways of her hips.

He didn't sleep with women he respected, but he had long suspected that Trish could be the exception to that rule.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, the words coming out more ragged than he would have liked.

Crossing her arms over her stomach as she shrugged, her breasts came close to tumbling right out of the leather contraption she called a shirt and Dante consciously shifted his attention to removing the cap from his bottle of whiskey.

"I was in town. I thought I would see what you were up to," she said lightly, perching on the edge of his desk in the precise spot Lady often chose when she was chewing him out.

Dante placed the open bottle of whiskey down and reached for the glass he kept in the top drawer. "You must want something. You never stop by just to say hi," he said, trying not to sound overly bitter.

He poured himself a glass of whiskey without looking up at her, but she still hadn't replied by the time he had sent the first gulp of alcohol burning down his throat. Looking up at her cautiously, he watched as she pushed her sunglasses up on her forehead and regarded him with startlingly blue eyes, her pale brows drawn together in an unexpectedly serious expression. "That's not true."

Dante threw back another gulp of whiskey, a shadow of a smile ghosting over his lips. "Whatever."

"Maybe I missed you," she said defensively and he nearly choked on his drink. She sat silently while he laughed, glowering in a manner that seemed out of place on her.

Catching his breath, Dante sighed. "Thanks. I needed that."

"It wasn't meant to be funny," she snapped.

"Mm-hm." Pouring another glass, he considered her with a jaunty smile, his eyes brazenly taking another round trip along the perimeter of her body. "You cut your hair," he observed quietly, holding the glass up to his lips.

Pointedly looking away with a petulant expression, she stated, "I got too close to a fire demon and it singed a chunk out of my hair. I had to get the rest cut off to match."

"It looks good," he said honestly, placing his empty glass down on the desk and leaning back in his chair.

An awkward silence filled the space between them, and though she was close enough to touch, Dante felt as if he couldn't move an inch toward her. He had never understood how she could manage to keep him at arm's length when he was standing only a breath away, but she had a knack for being carelessly aloof. She was sitting no farther from him than Lady often did, but while he knew that he could have gotten a rise out of Lady with only a small gesture, Trish could be sitting on his lap and still not respond with anything more than a roll of her eyes.

She broke the silence first, continuing to gaze at the wall as she commented, "I ran into Lady at the bar. She was complaining about you."

"Great," Dante grunted. "I suppose you're here as a favor to her, then?" He had started to lift the whiskey bottle to pour another glass without even realizing what he was doing, but Trish held the bottle down to the desk, her eyes sparking dangerously as they focused on him again.

"Yes…" she replied softly, "…and no."

"What's that supposed to mean?" His voice had instinctively dropped into a lower tone as well and his eyes narrowed as he fought her hold on the bottle.

"Don't you think you've had enough to drink?" she asked brusquely.

"I've only just started and the initial buzz is already wearing off," Dante nearly growled.

Sighing, Trish released the bottle and turned away. "How do you feel about Lady?" she asked so quietly that he had to strain to hear her voice.

Strangely, Dante no longer felt like drinking. Pushing away from the desk, he stood up and paced off across the room just to put a little distance between them; the proximity might not have been doing anything for her, but it sure as hell wasn't helping him think any clearer. "Where are you going with this? Did you two have some kind of heart-to-heart or something?"

"I'm asking for myself."

That didn't make a lot of sense to Dante. How could asking how he felt about another woman be something she needed to do for herself? Deciding to avoid the strange question entirely, he said, "Well, I'm not really in the mood to talk feelings."

Turning back to face her, he was surprised to find her following him across the room. She didn't stop until she was standing close enough for him to feel her body heat. He wondered if she knew that her body was a tool and that she was extremely adept at using it to her advantage. If she had been any other woman, he wouldn't have doubted that she shifted her hips and tilted her head just so because she wanted to play with him. But with Trish he never could be sure if she was even interested enough to try.

"When I was at the bar Bill said that you've seemed lonely lately," she murmured, watching him closely.

Confused and getting tired of having no idea what she was thinking, Dante shook his head and leaned back against the pool table, crossing his arms over his chest. He decided not to even respond until she started making sense again.

She raised a hand to his face with a casual air and he repressed a shiver as she traced lightly over his jaw, a wondering expression on her face. He couldn't decide if she liked the sensation of the stubble beneath her fingertips, or if she was merely amused by his rough appearance. "I guess I'm just worried about you," she said finally. "It's not like you to be lonely—or, at least, it's not like you to let it show."

"So, you thought you could hook me up with Lady?" he retorted coldly, not doing a very good job of remaining silent. "Thanks, mom, but I can find my own dates."

Her eyes darkening, she took a quick step away from him. "I am _not_ your mother." Her voice was frigid and her body language spoke of ten types of danger. He had certainly struck a nerve with that comment.

"Yeah, I know," he breathed, wondering how many of his frustrated desires were coming out in his hungry tone.

She tilted her head, an uncertain expression on her pale features. "I've been thinking," she began slowly, turning away and taking a deep breath before continuing, "about coming back. But I wasn't sure if there would still be a place for me here."

Understanding dawned on him swiftly and he nearly melted with delight in spite of his annoyance. "Lady's not my partner," he said evenly. "But I don't know that I even want a partner anymore. Being partners with someone implies a level of trust I'm not sure I have in anyone."

Smiling humorlessly, she looked back at him over her shoulder, the pose guileless and yet sensual in a way he couldn't quite describe. "You act as if I cheated on you."

He sighed. Her suggestive language wasn't making this any easier. "You did what you felt you had to do. I understand that. But you can't expect me to just welcome you back with open arms and pick up everything right where we left off." Except that was what he was more than willing to do. He refused to let her know that yet, though; he wanted to hold on to his dignity as long as he could manage, despite the fact that he knew he would give in before it was over.

"Where _did_ we leave off, Dante?"

Her voice was soft and full of unspoken meaning and he was so startled by the question that he gaped at her anxiously for longer than he probably should have. He couldn't decide if she was really implying something or if he was simply being overly hopeful. "I'm starting to think that demon singed more than your hair," he murmured, avoiding the question altogether. "What is with you tonight and the deep questions?"

Trish began pacing slowly across the room, hugging her arms to herself. "I've been halfway around this human world and back again, exploring it and trying to figure it out in a feeble attempt to find a place I could belong. I thought that maybe if I traveled long enough and met enough humans I would start to think and feel and behave more like them. I wanted to blend in with them, wanted to forget what I was so that I wouldn't have to face the reason I was created."

Turning back to him abruptly, a devastating expression twisting her flawless features, she continued, "But I could never find the sense of home I felt here…or the feeling of belonging I felt at your side." Even she seemed surprised by her statement, as if she had only come to realize the truth as she said the words out loud.

Dante, frankly, felt stunned. She had never shared her feelings so openly with him before and he had no idea how to respond. Luckily, she didn't give him the chance.

Composing herself and meeting his eyes with determination, she said firmly, "So, I need to know, Dante. Can I come home, or do I have to keep searching?"

A weak smile twisted his lips and he rolled the eight ball back and forth across the pool table as he considered his answer. Deciding to take the safer road through drearily familiar territory, he said nonchalantly, "I'm using your old room as my exercise room. And I threw away the clothes you left in the closet."

"Is that a no?" He could see the hurt in her eyes though she managed to keep her expression serene.

"I sold your bed too," he added as if she hadn't said a word, his smile gaining strength as he sent the eight ball spinning toward the corner pocket.

"Then, I guess I have nothing else to say." She turned toward the door and pushed her sunglasses back down on her nose. "Except that you should really be kinder to Lady." He could feel her eyes burning behind her dark shades as she glanced back at him with a haughty tilt of her head. "If you don't stop abusing her she might just give up on you."

Shaking his head at her odd comment, he followed after her. "Will you hold on a second? Damn, you sure know how to jump to conclusions."

Trish hesitated, her lips pursed as she turned to look at him with only a modicum of patience.

"I never said 'no.'"

She arched an elegant brow but did not respond.

Pausing in front of her, he pushed a golden strand of hair behind her ear gently, his fingers following the curve of her neck to her collarbone. She actually shivered in response and he leaned closer, surprised to feel her pulse racing beneath his fingertips. Eating up every second of her uncertainty, he said with a grin, "You're welcome to stay, if you want. But I felt I should warn you that you don't have any extra clothes here, so if you take a shower you might have to wear mine, and I've only got the one bed, so—"

If she had been human he might have been able to dodge the slap, but as it was, her palm had connected with his cheek almost before he saw her move. She was fast, but she was strong as well, leaving his skin stinging with the force of the blow. Cradling his aching cheekbone, Dante looked up at her through a ragged curtain of hair; she was nearly glowing with rage and he wondered what he had done to piss her off so badly. It wasn't as if he hadn't used worse pick up lines on her before.

"You don't mean that," she murmured and he blinked in surprise. He couldn't help thinking that she seemed to be angry at the wrong thing. Sweeping her sunglasses off her face, she flung them carelessly across the room and his eyes followed their progress as they skittered across the floor because he was too dumbfounded to do anything else.

Gripping his chin fiercely, she forced his face back toward her and he winced at the pressure of her slender fingers against his jaw. He instinctively wanted to twist her hand away, but he had a feeling using force would not be the best choice at the moment. "She's right. You're impossible," she stated with ice clinging to her words. "No wonder she's so bent out of shape over you."

"Who's bent out of shape?" Dante asked with dread. "Lady? Are we back to her again? She's practically like a sibling to me, okay? I'm just not interested." That wasn't the whole truth, but it was as close to it as he was going to admit.

"Then stop egging her on," Trish snapped, her hand clenching painfully against his skin. "It's not fair to her."

His anger flaring, Dante snapped, "Fine. Can we stop talking about her now? Why are you really here, Trish? Because I get the feeling that it wouldn't have mattered how I answered your question. You'd still be pissed."

Dante felt her nails break his skin, a thin stream of blood tickling its way down his neck. Her expression darkened, but she didn't say a word.

"What do you want from me?" he demanded, finally snatching her wrist and ripping it away from his face before she could do any more damage—although it wasn't the pain that was bothering him. It was the way the small act of brutality instantly raised his blood pressure. "You're the one who left me, remember? So, why are you trying to make me feel like I'm the one who screwed up?"

Her wrist was still clutched in his hand, but her hand had gone limp, her blue eyes hazy as she looked away. She was rarely so unsettled, and he sensed an unspoken opportunity in her demeanor. Perhaps it was time for him to take a risk. "What's the question you're really wanting to ask?" he murmured and she flinched, her chest rising and falling rapidly with anxious breaths.

Her voice faint as if she was hoping he wouldn't be able to hear her, she said haltingly, "When you look at me…who do you see?"

So that was what was bothering her. Dante's eyes drifted shut and he sighed. "Trish, how many years have we known each other?" he asked, trying not to sound too exasperated.

She shook her head numbly. "I've lost track."

"Don't you think it's about time you let this go?"

Trish's gaze swerved back toward him, but only got as far as his shoulder. She seemed hesitant to look him in the eyes. He loosened his grip on her wrist, rubbing his thumb soothingly over her palm as he continued, "I barely knew my mother before she was taken from me. I only had a picture and a few vague recollections of my childhood, so yeah, I thought about her when I first met you. I'd been trying to imagine what she was like most of my life, and I guess I projected some of that onto you—but I was only doing what Mundus expected of me. I was searching for something that couldn't be found."

He took a step closer to her and she instinctively backed away though the door stopped her from going far. "But I knew in my gut that I would never react to my mother the way I reacted to you," he breathed, his voice shrouded with dark promises. "I told you that you would never have her fire, but that doesn't mean you don't burn just as bright."

Finally meeting his gaze reluctantly as if she expected him to disappoint her in the end, Trish regarded him warily. "Those are some pretty words, Dante," she whispered. "I don't know whether to believe you or not."

His lips quirked with a fleeting smile. "You'd better be careful or I might just start talking about filling your soul with light, and we both know how much that turns you on."

Groaning and rolling her eyes, Trish hissed, "You really know how to ruin a moment."

Dante smirked, his hand drifting along her arm to her waist and catching at the curve of her hip as he tugged her toward him. "Then let me make up for it," he breathed, his lips hovering over hers as he watched her eyes widen slowly, exhilaration pounding through his veins as he realized that for once she wasn't pushing him away. Brushing teasingly against her mouth, he snagged her lower lip briefly with his teeth and soothed away the offense with a playful half-kiss, wondering how he had managed to wait so long to give in to this particular temptation.

True to form, Trish stopped him before he could get any further, her hands pressing against his shoulders and pushing him back a step. "Why now?" she demanded, watching his reaction carefully. "You've never tried to kiss me before."

"You've never let me get this close before." He reached for her again and she brushed his hand away.

"You've teased, you've made lewd comments, and I know you've groped my ass--whether it was intentional or otherwise--but you've never actually tried to kiss me," Trish persisted.

Sighing, Dante threw up his hands. She was asking questions he wasn't comfortable answering. How could he tell her that he'd been drawn to her from the moment he met her and that he had only held himself back because he couldn't figure out how to approach her without making a mess of things? He was self-assured to a fault with most women, but he doubted himself when he was with her. And that doubt led to stupid mistakes.

Finally, he said crossly, "Well, there's a reason, I suppose. It's generally not a good idea to screw your business partner. I was just being cautious. That doesn't mean I never wanted in your pants."

He could tell by the way her expression darkened that he was doing a good job of screwing things up so far. "How terribly romantic," she whispered sarcastically.

Sensing the opportunity slipping away quickly, he knew the only way to catch it before it was out of reach was to shift the focus from wordplay to something more physical. He was a man of action, after all, not words. Throwing all caution to the wind, he leaned toward her again, pressing his palms against the door on either side of her slender shoulders. This time she didn't stop him; she must have noticed the dangerous glint in his eyes. "You didn't come here for romance," he purred in her ear with confidence he didn't have, running his tongue over her earlobe and catching it in his teeth.

His hands found her hips, sliding around her waist and downward. Cupping her firm behind in his palms, he lifted her off her feet while pressing her body flush against his. Her low-slung belt dug painfully into his stomach, but he didn't care as he flexed his hands and tightened his grip. She made a breathy noise in his ear and he grinned, nuzzling against her neck as her hands moved from his shoulders to his back, trailing up along his spine until they tangled in his hair.

Gripping his hair cruelly, she hauled his face back up so that she could look him in the eye. He winced, but she was utterly unsympathetic, attacking his lips with a ferocity that left him wondering—not for the first time—how different it would be to have sex with a demon. She was nearly as strong as him and healed even more quickly than he did, so he imagined he wouldn't have to hold himself back nearly as much as he usually did. Humans were fragile and easily injured, but Trish was anything but human.

To his surprise, she slipped her tongue into his mouth before the idea even occurred to him, but he refused to let her dominate the kiss, trying to meet her at every angle of contact before she could take the advantage. She tasted tart and tangy, like cranberries and lime, and he found himself getting far more wrapped up in the kiss than he had anticipated.

On some level he had always expected her to be somewhat inexperienced—perhaps because he had been one of the first men she had ever encountered in the human world and he had never crossed this line with her. Not that she wasn't fully capable of exploring this aspect of humanity on her own. In fact, judging by her level of skill, she must have done quite a bit of research.

Though he probably had no right to feel jealous, he felt a wave of possessiveness take hold of him as that realization began to take shape. She had been by his side for years and he had never had the courage to attempt claiming her, but if her eagerness now was any indication, he had been holding himself back needlessly. Suddenly her reasons for leaving, her frustration with him, all of the strange, incomprehensible comments she had made to him through the years crystallized in his mind and he realized he really was the one to blame in the end.

Anger at his own stupidity mingled with his current desire, and he came up for air briefly, only to dive immediately back into the kiss with a desperation that seemed to startle her because for a moment she didn't fight him at all. He clutched at her and pressed her slender body back against the door, his hands roaming from the bare skin along her midriff to the soft curve of her breasts where they were barely concealed by taut, black leather. With a need darker than mere lust driving him, he worked hastily at unfastening her shirt, grinding his hips against hers as he worked and moaning in her mouth at the delicious friction.

He hadn't noticed that she was no longer responding. Oxygen deprived and on sensory overload, Dante was unprepared for her sudden burst of strength as she broke the kiss and pushed him back a step, swatting his hand away before it could find its way inside her half-open shirt. "I'm not that easy, Dante," she growled, her eyes narrowed to slits.

Hurt by her unexpected rejection, he gasped unevenly past panted breaths, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you're the one who started that kiss."

"Just because I kissed you doesn't mean I gave you permission to undress me." He could tell by her tone of voice that she was trying to make a point; he had been moving quickly and hadn't exactly been paying attention to her reactions to see if she was along for the ride.

Dante hesitated, suddenly realizing the downside to his poor choices in bedmates all these years. He was used to getting what he wanted, used to women eagerly offering themselves up to him for sacrifice; he didn't know how to deal with a woman he cared about and perhaps that was why he had avoided this moment for so long. To his knowledge, he had never truly made love to anyone—love had never had anything to do with the act in his experience. He wondered when the two things had become so disconnected in his mind and he couldn't help thinking of his brother. Love was an emotion he had been taught to distrust from an early age, and he had eventually found ways to distance himself from his heart so that it wouldn't betray him at every turn. That choice had its disadvantages.

When his eyes focused on her again, her expression had softened a great deal and she was regarding him cautiously, the anger that still clung to her features tempered by a hint of concern. Shame washed over him and he turned away quickly; he had let his guard down and she must have read the insecurities written plainly on his face.

The forgotten whiskey bottle glinted invitingly from his desk and he took a deep breath. "I lied before," he said without emotion, approaching the desk slowly and turning his back on her. "Your room is exactly the way you left it. It's been waiting for you all this time…if you still want it." He filled the glass, holding the amber liquid up to the light with a sour smile.

"I still have a job to do," she said awkwardly. "I was just planning on passing through town on my way."

Dante savored the warmth of the alcohol, closing his eyes. "I guess I'll see you around, then."

Trish sighed and shuffled her feet. Finally she began walking across the room to him. "Dante." She pressed a hand gently against his back. "I'll be back."

He nodded, but didn't turn to watch her leave. He was used to watching her walk away, and while the view was usually enjoyable, he didn't think it would do much to improve his mood this time.

* * *

**Author's Note: **

**This chapter was surprisingly hard for me to write—partially because I didn't want to write the two of them the way I usually do. The idea that Dante is somewhat intimidated by Trish is fascinating to me, but not very easy to write. It's even weirder considering I'm writing him as more of a playboy in this story…**

**I wanted to thank everyone for your reviews on the first chapter. I try to respond to reviews if at all possible, so if you leave me a way to contact you, I will be sure to reply. Thanks for reading. Next chapter will be Lady's point of view.**


	3. Strawberry Daiquiri

**Author's Note:**

**It took me longer than I expected to post this… I've been sick with a cold and haven't been doing much of anything online. It's unfortunately not very long either. I apologize for that! I had been hoping to expand it a little bit (part of the reason I delayed posting it), but in the end I decided this chapter felt fairly complete already.**

* * *

**Strawberry Daiquiri**

"Dante?" Lady pushed the front door open tentatively when there was no response to her knock. The room was utterly empty and she invited herself in, shutting the door behind her quietly and looking for any clues to indicate what had happened the night before. She frowned when she saw the empty bottle of whiskey on the desk and the single empty glass next to it.

Deciding to investigate further, she tiptoed up the stairs, cringing when her foot landed on a loose board. The house remained as silent as a tomb once the echo of the creak faded and she took a cautious step into the hallway. Dante's room was the one at the end of the hall. She knew because she had gone there once to rouse him rudely from sleep by pulling open the curtains and throwing things at him until he finally got out of bed. He had been shirking a job that day and she had been furious, but that hadn't stopped her from noticing he slept in the nude.

She had blushed so fiercely when he shamelessly crawled out of bed wearing nothing but his skin that even the memory was enough to make her blush all over again. Her embarrassment had pleased him to no end and he had teased her about it for days afterward. She hadn't ventured into his bedroom since.

Staring at the dark doorway, Lady wondered whether she should risk proceeding any further. Perhaps she was wrong to suspect things had not gone well with Trish. The last thing she wanted to do was walk in on them together in bed.

The flush spread down her neck and Lady fanned herself absently with a hand, glancing at the shadowy doorway that led to the bathroom and then the bright patch of sunlight spilling from the half-open door across the hall. Her eyes widened. She'd never seen that door open before—she didn't even know what Dante used the room for, though she had always guessed it was for storage.

Approaching the doorway warily, Lady's nose twitched at the scent of alcohol mixed with the musty smell of dust and stale air. The room was mostly bare, furnished only with a simple dresser and a relatively small but cozy bed. Dante was sprawled across the mattress on top of a blood red duvet, fully clothed and completely unconscious. Another empty bottle lay on its side where his feet were still resting on the ground. She could see his footprints in the dust clinging to the wood floor, and judging from the haphazard way he had crossed the room, she imagined he had been inebriated at the time.

There was no curtain on the window and late morning light spilled through the grimy glass, lending a golden glow to the pale strands of hair obscuring Dante's face. Leaning against the doorjamb, Lady watched him sleep, still undecided about whether or not she should wake him. His chest rose and fell slowly, those arrogant lips that were so often twisted into a smirk relaxed and slightly parted as his pale eyelashes twitched fretfully against his skin.

Crossing her arms over her stomach, she rested her head against the wall, thinking about what Trish had said the night before. Trish's comments about Lady's attraction to Dante had truly caught her off guard; though she knew she wasn't very skilled at hiding her emotions, she had always assumed Trish didn't consider her to be a significant rival for Dante's affections in the first place and had ignored her interest entirely. Perhaps that assumption was really just Lady's lack of confidence talking.

Regardless, she knew better than to think pursing a relationship with Dante would be healthy for either of them. She had no doubt that she could keep up with him in a fight, but trying to deal with him on a personal level always ended up in mutual frustration and left her wanting to murder him. Lady had never been a believer in romance stories or happily-ever-afters and she knew better than to think that true loves always started out hating each other. Opposites may attract, but they didn't necessarily spend the rest of their lives together—unless they planned to either compromise or be miserable for eternity. And neither she nor Dante were the types of people who made compromises or enjoyed being miserable.

Trish, on the other hand, seemed to know exactly how to handle Dante—or maybe it was just that Dante cared enough about her to take her seriously. Lady didn't know what kind of complications could have kept them apart for so long, but from the way things had ended up, it looked like last night hadn't resolved anything between them either. She could see no sign of Trish anywhere, and it didn't take a genius to figure out that this room used to be hers when she had been his partner. The fact that he had chosen this place to sleep left no doubt in Lady's mind about his feelings; her only doubt was over how clearly he had communicated those feelings to Trish before she left.

Deciding not to disturb him, Lady shook her head and turned to leave, but her body seemed to have other ideas. The toe of her boot somehow managed to catch on a box near the door as she tried to turn, and she tripped, her arms flailing and sending the door banging back against the wall. She caught herself in the door frame, her arms flung wide and her foot still caught by the box.

Dante had not moved from his position on the bed, simply looking up at her grumpily with one eyebrow arched. Lady grimaced, trying to right herself and stumbling against the door again in the process. It turned out that her foot had caught in a rope tied around the box.

"You're better than an alarm clock," Dante grunted, letting his head fall back against the bed. "But I'd like to know where your snooze button is."

Scowling, Lady dusted herself off. "I didn't mean to wake you," she said, trying to find the scattered pieces of her pride.

Dante scrubbed at his face, his voice muffled behind his hands. "As if I could sleep through all that. Did you forget how to use your legs or something?"

"I tripped," she retorted icily.

He sat up on the bed and rubbed at his neck as if he had slept uncomfortably, a suggestive smile spreading across his face. "I'm not surprised. You were standing there staring at me for a good five minutes and drinking in the view like I was a strawberry daiquiri or something. You must have been so overwhelmed that you lost control over your body. Though it is a bit surprising you didn't stumble in the other direction."

Anger rising inside of her, Lady finally disentangled her foot from the rope and stamped it against the floor. "I was _not_ 'drinking you in.' Besides, I don't even like strawberry daiquiris. And if you were already awake, you should have been chivalrous enough to try to catch me before I fell."

A shadow of something dark and uncertain swept over his features, but he quickly replaced it with another grin. "I wasn't completely awake. And it would have been much more amusing to watch you fall on your ass anyway." Taking a deep breath and standing up stiffly, he asked, "What emergency did you come to rouse me out of bed for anyway?"

Lady took an uncertain step backwards into the hall. "No emergency," she said quickly. "I just stopped by to see if Trish was still here…or…" She trailed off when his eyes focused on her sharply, a hint of anger swirling across their pale blue surface like a storm gathering.

"She had a job or something," he answered without inflection.

"So…she left?"

He took a step toward her, a strange expression on his face. "Don't you think you've meddled enough?"

She shivered; she couldn't remember the last time she had heard Dante's voice sound so cold. Her hands clenched at her sides and she turned away, her mind scrambling for a possible explanation for how things could have gone as wrong as they seemed to have gone between him and Trish.

"Trish gave me an earful about how I've been mistreating you," he added before she could think of a way to respond.

Lady's gaze snapped back to meet his and anger flared inside of her again. "I didn't ask her to do that." She was beginning to wonder if Trish had actually confronted Dante about his feelings at all. Trish had been so certain that Lady's theory was wrong; maybe she had simply tried to convince Dante to pay more attention to Lady and not even said a word about her relationship with him. "Was that all she talked about?"

Dante shrugged. "A few other things. But if I tell you about them, you'd probably just end up stirring the pot with her the second she showed her face again."

Narrowing her eyes, Lady refused to take the bait. "When is she coming back?" she asked neutrally.

"Who knows?" Brushing past her, Dante pulled the door shut behind him, closing off the unoccupied room. "I don't suppose you brought breakfast."

He began trudging down the stairs and she followed him sadly, unanswered questions still boiling in her mind. She knew better to ask them, though, when he was in this kind of mood. Instead, she said in a nauseatingly cheery tone, "I didn't bring breakfast, but I did bring work."

Dante made a sound of disgust.

"Come on. It's some kind of big, powerful monster that's sure to put up a fight. Don't try to deny it. You know you love stuff like that!"

Turning when he had reached the last step, Dante scowled back at her. "Why don't _you_ go kill it? You love stuff like that too."

Lady made a face. "This demon is definitely not my type." Forcing a smile when she saw his skeptical expression, she added, "But she's perfect for you."

Dante crossed the room to his desk. "It's not like you to give up a job unless it's more hassle than it's worth or it pays shit. Either way, I'm not interested."

"It's nothing like that. It's just that this demon's a succubus…I can't keep up with her and she's not interested in me so I can't get her to stick around long enough for me to kill her. But I bet she'd like you."

Sitting on the edge of the desk and crossing his arms over his chest, Dante said wistfully. "Hm. A succubus, huh?"

While Lady was feeling hopeful that he would take the job off her back, she was also a little dismayed by the expression on his face. She was only trying to distract him from his obviously gloomy mood, but she felt a little like she was offering an alcoholic a drink or giving a drug addict a hit. Dante was far from suicidal, but he had some rather hedonistic tendencies and she had occasionally wondered if he would be willing to kill himself with pleasure if given the chance. Was it such a good idea to give him that chance? She had been encouraging a relationship between him and Trish because he desperately needed a healthy relationship in his life. Was it worth wasting all of that effort just to keep him distracted for a little while?

"You know what?" Lady said abruptly. "On second thought, never mind."

"What?" Dante looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

"I said forget about it. I'll take care of her myself."

"Why?"

"You look a little too interested." Lady turned toward the door.

"So, you'll only shove jobs off on me if I'm not interested?"

Her hand already on the doorknob, Lady hauled the door open and waved sweetly at him. "I'll see you later, Dante."

"You do realize I don't need your permission to kill a demon," he called after her. "Now that I know about it, I can find it myself!"

Lady slammed the door behind her with a sigh, feeling as if she had caused more trouble in the last twenty-four hours by trying to be helpful than she had ever caused by keeping to herself. "There's a reason I'm not usually this social," she reminded herself softly.

* * *

**Author's Note: **

**My alcohol reference/chapter title was a little heavy handed this time, I know. But I couldn't help thinking of Dante's strawberry sundae thing and making the connection. So I kept it, even if it was a little too obvious. **

**Anyway, the next chapter will be back to Trish's POV—do you see a pattern here? Surprisingly, this story that was going to be mostly fluff actually has a little bit of plot developing. More of that in the next installment.**


	4. Strip and Go Naked

**Author's Note:**

**While I had been limiting each of the previous chapters to one character's point of view per chapter, I decided I need all three character's POV in this one to make it work. But since it was rightfully Trish's turn, she got POV twice. Why do I think about things like this? Because I'm a nerd. Anyway, there's actually some action in this one.**

* * *

**Strip and Go Naked**

Trish was speeding down the highway at nearly twenty miles over the limit, but she swore she could still smell the rank scent of blood and gore on her clothes.

Her job had taken longer than expected. Normally she stuck to strictly demon prey—she tried to avoid creatures that belonged only in an episode of the X-Files if at all possible—but this job had paid well and she hadn't known for certain when she took it that the target was not actually a demon. Most freaky supernatural creatures could be explained as demons, after all. But to her dismay, she had actually been hired to hunt an escaped test subject from some sort of sick genetic experiment.

The creature was not clever, but it was resourceful. Whenever she had managed to get close, it had promptly split itself in two, spilling nasty smelling primordial juices everywhere along the way. She must have killed the damn thing twenty times by the time she finally caught it before it had the chance to multiply again. As far as she could tell it was completely dead now, and she had insisted on a higher reward when she brought the disgusting carcass of the experiment-gone-wrong to her client. Seeing her condition, he had either agreed because of her obvious effort or because he wanted to be away from her stench as quickly as possible.

She probably should have grabbed a hotel room for the night and cleaned herself up before heading back, but she was so sick of that dismal village after spending three miserable days exploring every nook and cranny of it that she couldn't stand to be there another minute.

Slowing down when she hit the outskirts of the city, Trish considered finding a way to delay the inevitable just a little bit longer, but she had lived with the ambiguity of her situation with Dante hanging over her head for long enough.

Though she didn't exactly regret pushing Dante away, she did wish that she could have left on better terms. She had to admit that Lady's theory had turned out to be fairly accurate, but part of her was still a bit suspicious of his sincerity. He had been awfully eager to "get in her pants," as he had so genteelly put it, and she couldn't help wondering if he was merely interested in crossing one more woman off his list. She had no desire to be on that list. The only way he was going to get her into his bed was if he threw his list away entirely. She honestly didn't know whether that was even possible for him. But she was willing to find out.

Rush hour traffic slowed her down the closer she got to the middle of town and she pulled out her cell phone when her stomach started growling. Thinking dinner might be a nice way to start patching things up between them, she dialed his number.

The phone rang. And rang. And just when she was about to hang up someone answered, but it was not Dante. "Lady?" Trish asked in surprise.

"Trish!" Lady said quickly, her voice coated in worry. "Are you back in town?"

"Yeah," Trish answered with a hint of trepidation. "Is something up? Where's Dante?"

"That's the problem…I'm not sure." Lady groaned. "I think I did something really stupid."

"What happened?"

Lady hesitated. "Where are you?"

Trish glanced up at the sign hanging over the intersection she was passing through. "3rd and Grand. I'm only a few blocks away, but traffic is murder."

"Take a right on Cherry. It should be the next street. You can take a shortcut through the new park there."

"Got it. I'll see you in a few minutes." Trish hung up and shoved the phone back in her pocket, cutting past the car ahead of her to take a sharp right on Cherry. Very little actual thought went through her head as she made her way through the park and down the street to Devil May Cry; she was too busy trying to navigate traffic and trying not to think of explanations for Lady's panic.

Parking her bike out front and hurrying up the steps, she shoved the door open and stepped inside without preamble, momentarily forgetting her own stench. Lady, who was pacing back and forth between the pool table and the jukebox, stopped in her circuit immediately and turned to Trish in horror, her nose wrinkling.

"Sorry," Trish apologized quickly. "I didn't take the time to clean up. What's going on?"

Holding her fingers up to her nose while trying not to appear as if she was bothered by the smell, Lady replied, "I'm afraid Dante might have gotten himself in over his head this time. And it's all my fault. I told him about this demon who was in town, and…" Blinking slowly, she paused. "You know, you could go ahead and take a shower upstairs first, if you want. We can figure out what to do about Dante when you're done."

Trish raised an eyebrow, but she had to admit that she was smelling pretty awful even to herself. "Okay. But only if you order us some dinner in the meantime. I'm starving." She started heading for the stairs.

"What do you want? Should I order pizza?"

Pausing halfway up the stairs, Trish peered down at her from between the railing and the ceiling. "Absolutely not."

"We could put it on Dante's tab that way."

Trish shook her head. "No, I'm against pizza on principle. Order Chinese or something. With extra crab rangoon."

She didn't take the time to find out if Lady had any other questions, taking the rest of the stairs two at a time and flinging open the door to her old room. Pausing on the threshold despite her hurry, she noticed that someone had been in the room recently; the dust on the floor had been disturbed and there was a faint imprint of a body on the covers. The footprints had been made by rather large feet and she felt a dull ache in her chest at the possibility that Dante had been the one to make them.

Shaking the thought away, Trish opened the closet and frowned at the small assortment of clothing she had left behind. Dante's comment echoed in her head and she considered walking down the hall and stealing something from his closet, but she knew that would be impractical. Not only would anything she found there be likely to fit her poorly, but she also had no interest in dealing with the gloating expression he would have on his face when he saw her wearing his clothes.

Deciding to make do with what she had, she grabbed a tight blue drawstring shirt that was a little impractical for demon hunting and a pair of brown cargo pants that had always been too loose on her.

Hurrying across the hall to the bathroom, she held her breath and flipped on the light.

The bathroom was surprisingly clean and tidy. It wasn't as clean as she had kept it when she lived in the house, but it wasn't bad, all things considered. She wondered briefly if Lady had cleaned it because she couldn't stand the filth, but then she decided that Lady probably wouldn't come near a mess Dante had made. She would simply yell at him until he finally cleaned it up himself to stop her haranguing.

The shower felt amazingly good, the layers of grit and grime washing away down the drain and leaving her feeling refreshed. When she was certain that her skin was scrubbed clean, Trish stepped out of the shower and dried off quickly, wrapping a towel around her hair. She paused halfway through the process, burrowing her face in the towel for one weak moment when she recognized the scent of the fabric softener and thought of the way it had smelled on Dante's clothes when she had been held captive in his arms.

Once she was dressed, Trish tried to wring as much water out of her hair as she could before she hurried downstairs, pulling on a pair of socks as she went. Lady was at the door talking to a deliveryman by the time she entered the room and the aroma of fried rice and soy sauce wafted through the room.

Lady spread the food out over Dante's desk, and after a reluctant glance at his empty chair they both decided to sit on the edge of the desk rather than take his chair.

Lady started explaining as soon as they were situated. Listening while she eagerly inhaled a bowl of hot and sour soup, Trish wondered why Lady felt like any of this was her fault. Dante clearly had chosen to pursue the succubus on his own, and it wasn't as if he wouldn't have found out about the demon sooner or later anyway—it was hunting in his territory, after all.

"And then I found out that this succubus isn't just any old demon," Lady lamented, picking at a container of fried rice with her chopsticks. "She's like the mother of all succubae and came to this city specifically to find the son of Sparda. She was targeting him from the beginning and it seems that all her other victims were only a light snack before the main course. I guess she has some kind of grudge against his father."

"Who doesn't?" Trish said with a frown, finishing off the last bite of a crab rangoon. "But Dante's no pushover. Surely he could hold his own against her."

Lady glanced at her, doubt filling her eyes. "She came here looking for him so she's probably done her research. She intends to make him her slave or something and keep him around as long as she can keep feeding off of him. I came here to warn him as soon as I found out, but he was already gone."

Trish pushed her container of General Tso's chicken aside with a sigh, her appetite unexpectedly waning. "Any ideas where she is now?"

"I tracked her to some abandoned storage caves outside of town. There was an accident a few years ago and some of the chambers collapsed, but most of the structure is still standing. It sounds like the perfect hiding place for a demon, doesn't it?"

Nodding grimly, Trish agreed. Deciding there was no point in delaying the inevitable any more than necessary. "Shall we go?" she asked, brushing off her hands.

A small smile curved Lady's lips as she began gathering up their leftovers. "I'll put this away if you'll take out the trash."

They were at the caves fifteen minutes later, parking their bikes next to Dante's beat up car.

"Well, I guess that settles it," Trish said with a sour smile, dragging a finger along the side of the red car. "Even if the demon isn't here, he's around here somewhere, at least."

The entrance to the caves was partially collapsed and they had to crawl over a cascade of cement rubble just to get inside. Lady turned on a flashlight as she dropped down to the cracked pavement that sloped downhill to the network of caves deep beneath the hillside. The light danced along the long, crumbling corridor, bouncing off of crevices, thick pillars of rock painted over in industrial white paint and the hollowed remnants of what had once been shops and storage units. Their footsteps echoed eerily in the crumbling corridor, but the caves were silent otherwise—aside from the occasional drip of water or buzz of a fluorescent light that hadn't quite given up yet.

"There's a lot of ground to cover," Trish sighed, turning in a slow circle when they reached a pair of branching corridors. "Do you think we should split up?"

"Probably," Lady agreed. "Do you want a flashlight?"

Trish smiled. "No need. My eyes are pretty sensitive. Should we meet back here in a half an hour?"

"Sure." Lady adjusted Kalina Ann on her shoulder; Trish had never understood how Lady managed to carry around a weapon that was nearly as big as her and possibly weighed more than she did, but judging by the skill with which Lady used the bazooka, it was no burden for her. "Good hunting," Lady said with a wave as she turned down the right path.

Trish wondered whether this was really the wisest thing to be doing. According to Lady, the succubus had next to no interest in women, so they didn't really have a lot to worry about where their own wellbeing was concerned, but anyone would fight back when threatened. She imagined the succubus wouldn't roll over and say uncle just because they were women if they were rushing in to rescue her prize.

Still, Trish had a lot of faith in her excellent hearing, and she imagined that if Lady were to run into the succubus first, she would hear it easily enough to come to her aid before things got too ugly. It wasn't that she doubted Lady's ability to take care of herself so much as she questioned the demon's strength if Dante hadn't finished her off by now. It might take a team effort to bring this one down.

---------

Dante was feeling pretty lousy. He had gone after the succubus mostly out of an unfounded grudge against Lady for saying he shouldn't, and it was proving to be a really bad idea. Not only was the demon stronger than he had expected, but she fought dirty. Her saliva seemed to be severely poisonous, and every time she managed to get the better of him and snag a soul-sucking kiss, he was left temporarily stunned and practically paralyzed.

He had brought Nevan along with him because she was always whining about how he never took her out anymore, and he figured it would be useful to fight fire with fire. Surely one succubus would be good defense against another, after all. But she had been less than worthless. The moment they found the demon she had up and refused to fight for him, claiming the succubus was her mother or something and it was against her principles to fight her. Dante hadn't even known the bat bitch had principles.

While his guns had been useful, he had made the most progress with Alastor. The succubus had an army of spider familiars and they were difficult targets to hit with a bullet. Unfortunately, Alastor was buried somewhere on the other side of the chamber and Dante was wrapped in a suffocating cocoon of spider silk suspended from the ceiling.

His head pounded painfully as he watched the ground sway back and forth across his vision, forgetting for a moment that the ground wasn't moving at all and he was the one who was swaying. Closing his eyes with a groan, Dante listened to the tiny scrabbling sounds of hundreds of skeletal legs against the crumbling cement floor and willed himself to recover enough to risk a devil trigger. He had triggered half a dozen times already in this fight for what little good it had done him, but he had barely managed to do any damage to her without ending up at her mercy immediately afterward.

He had fallen victim to her poison one too many times during their last scuffle and she had taken full advantage of his weakness. Healing herself by drawing vitality from him, she had sated herself temporarily and slinked away into some dark corner to bask in the afterglow while he was left tangled in her web. He should have been using the opportunity to regain his strength and plan a sneak attack, but it seemed that regaining his strength was taking his full attention and still progressing rather slowly.

Cursing himself for his stupidity, Dante considered his limited options. At the moment his only real choice was to play the victim and pretend to be helpless--though he truly was not far from it at the moment. If she let her guard down, he might be able to make his move and deliver a fatal blow before she could stop him.

Dante was just drifting back into unconsciousness when he felt himself being lowered from the ceiling, spiny legs catching him before he touched the ground and righting him on his feet. Shaking himself awake, he tried to focus on the succubus as she stepped out of the shadows with a wicked grin, jagged teeth flashing whitely against crimson lips. "I see you're awake. That's good," she growled, gesturing to the large spider behind him. "I'm getting hungry again."

The spider maneuvered him closer to the succubus with uncaring jabs of razor-sharp legs and Dante winced, but tried to appear submissive and not struggle against the silk still woven tightly around his body. Judging by the satisfied expression on her angular face, the succubus was falling for his act.

"Mmm," she purred, caressing his face with long, thin fingers. "That's more like it. You should get used to this, my pet." Her sharp fingernails sliced through his silk restraints and Dante breathed a sigh of relief as the choking pressure around his torso eased. "Your father was destined to be my mate, you know," she purred, nipping at his jaw.

Dante didn't know, nor did he care to know. His mind was completely occupied with where Alastor was at the moment and when he could devil trigger.

"But he refused me," she snarled, her nails digging deep enough to cut a thin line through the ragged remnants of his shirt and into the skin beneath. When the web was thin enough to collapse under its own weight, she tore the remainder of his shirt apart, skating spidery fingers over his skin possessively. "And he took a lowly human as his mate instead. Can you imagine my disgrace?"

"Guess he just wasn't into the kinky sex," Dante muttered absently, finally locating the silver glimmer of Alastor's blade in the corner of the room.

"But you are," she whispered, pulling him flush against her curvaceous body and Dante shuddered. Her skin exuded some kind of fragrance loaded with pheromones and he couldn't fight the arousal it immediately inspired. The reaction was unnatural and vaguely painful, especially because being intimate with a succubus meant having your life drained away one drop at a time. "You are mine now," she breathed, "and you will love me any way I ask you to."

Dante finally felt the potential of his full demon powers hovering just at the edge of his perception like catching a glimpse of something in his peripheral vision. It glowed and glimmered within his mind but would disappear the moment he shifted his attention toward it. He was close now. He needed to distract her just a little longer.

"I could please you a lot better if you gave me a chance to recover," he murmured in his sexiest throaty growl. "You're only cheating yourself by keeping me weak."

"A clever attempt to trick me, but a futile one," she breathed against his lips.

"We'll see." Triggering with an explosion of energy, Dante shoved her away roughly and flew across the room to his weapon, spinning back to face her just as she managed to catch up to him, her spider minions scurrying along in her wake. Power tingling through his fingertips, he swung his sword at her, dodging her attacks with liquid grace and finally burying his blade in her abdomen, driving it through until the hilt was flush with her skin.

She gasped in pain, but her lips curved back into that inevitable smile. "Every bit as valiant as he was," she whispered with a dry, rasping laugh, dragging long fingers through his tangled mane of hair as his devil trigger faded and the rush of strength left his body with shocking abruptness.

He tried to pull Alastor out of her body so that he could finish the job, but his arms felt weak. Blood flowed from her wound, trailing down over his arms and burning where it touched his bare skin. His muscles shuddered and his knees gave out as the blood seemed to slither over his skin, simultaneously scorching him and spreading numbness throughout his body. He should have known that her blood would be at least as poisonous as her saliva. He should have been more careful.

His knees landed hard on the cracked cement and breath rattled out of his chest with a painful gasp, his back arching as she forced his head back and drank his life eagerly from his lips.

----------

Her flashlight illuminated a patchwork of silvery web slung across the entrance to another chamber. Squinting into the dark space, Lady pushed a lacy curtain of web aside and ducked beneath a slab of concrete. Water splashed beneath her boots, pouring in a steady stream from a pipe jutting out of one of the walls and pooling in jagged puddles across the broken floor.

Holding a gun aloft in one hand and her flashlight in the other as she scanned the ragged recesses of the chamber draped in spidery silk, Lady turned in a slow circle. She was expecting an attack at any moment, but it seemed that this room was no different than the dozen other rooms she had already explored. Sighing, she turned back toward the entrance, but gasped when her flashlight caught a strange shape suspended from the ceiling a few yards away from her. It looked vaguely man-sized, wrapped in a bundle of spider's silk and swaying slowly back and forth. Silver hair—almost indistinguishable from the silver silk—obscured the figure's features as it stirred in an unfelt breeze.

"Dante," she whispered with a mixture of relief and worry, approaching him cautiously.

He was hanging several feet above her head and just out of reach, but she could see his face clearly when she got closer, his pale brows drawn together even in sleep and his eyelashes twitching against his cheeks. She didn't know if he was poisoned or just unconscious, but she did know that she would have to get him down in order to find out either way. Taking a step back and raising her gun, she squinted up at the mass of silk connecting his cocoon with web stretched across the ceiling. The silk was sturdy stuff and it took three bullets to break it, but when it did snap he plummeted to the floor in short order.

Holstering her gun with one last wary look around the chamber, Lady knelt down beside him as he groaned in pain. He looked disoriented as he blinked fitfully into the light, his expression strangely uncertain as he tried to scramble away from her despite the silk wrapped tightly about his torso. Finding a place to prop up the flashlight, Lady reached for the knife at her waist and placed her other hand reassuringly against his chest.

"It's me. Jut stay still and I'll have you free in a second."

He looked up at her with wide eyes, his expression at once frightened and desperately confused. She had never seen an expression like that on his face before and it scared the shit out of her. Now that she was closer, she could see that blood was still leaking from a cut on his shoulder and several gashes across his cheekbone, and she realized he must have been weak enough that he wasn't able to heal himself properly anymore.

"Who are you?" he whispered in a voice that hardly even sounded like his, hoarse and deeper than it usually was.

Lady's hand trembled as she began to hack at the silk cocoon. "Nice joke, Dante," she said lightly, trying not to take his question seriously. "The sympathy card won't work on me for long, you know."

"Dante?" he murmured, leaning toward her with an intent expression in his eyes. "Is that…my name?"

Fear stabbed through her because there was no mistaking the gravity in his eyes, but she forced herself to keep working as she heard the structure rumble ominously around them. It had shuddered a few times in her journey through the caves, but this was the biggest quake she had felt yet. She didn't count on its stability to last much longer with the frequency of the tremors. "Don't worry," she said, as much to reassure herself as for him. "That succubus must have poisoned you or something and that's why you can't remember. You'll be fine if we can just get you out of here."

Watching her earnestly, he stayed remarkably still as she finished freeing him from the web and awkwardly managed to crawl out of the remaining cocoon as she pried it away. He stumbled to his feet and leaned against an outcropping of broken concrete, reaching back to offer her a hand up. She was startled by the cool temperature of his skin as he weakly helped her to her feet, frowning as she brushed some of the dirty strands of hair away from his face so she could get a better look at his eyes.

"You really don't remember, do you?" she whispered. "Do you even remember where you are, or how you got here?"

He glanced around the chamber anxiously and there was something about his manner that seemed jarringly wrong. "I feel like I've been here a long time. I remember waking up here before, but nothing before that."

The ground rumbled again beneath their feet. "We need to get out of here," Lady said, clinging to practicality at the moment. "This place could collapse at any moment. Can you walk?"

He nodded, and again she was struck by a sense of wrongness. His expression was too serious—his eyes too attentive of her every move.

Shoving her disquiet to a back corner of her mind, Lady gestured to the exit. "This way." She drew her gun again and raised her flashlight as she led him out of the chamber, listening carefully to his slow footsteps behind her and half expecting an attack from him as much as from any other source. Though she was fairly certain he was actually Dante, she couldn't be sure that the succubus wasn't controlling him somehow. She had no idea why the demon would do such a thing, but she couldn't think of another explanation for the wrongness she was sensing from him. Unless the succubus had stripped away more than just his memories and his personality had been stolen as well.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Lady shook the thought away.

"Were you trapped here as well?" he asked quietly as he followed her up the pile of rock leading to the main tunnel.

"No. I came to find you."

"You came here just to rescue me?" He seemed startled by the idea.

Lady glanced back at him as she waited for him to make his way back down to the ground. "Yes…I guess I did."

"You must be a good friend," he said solemnly, his gaze unnerving in its intensity.

She would have expected him to make a statement like that with a lot more attitude, but she tried not to dwell on his unusually straightforward phrasing and utter lack of innuendo. Besides, she should have been pleased by his change in demeanor and lack of crude jokes. It was rather refreshing. "You know, I think I like you better without your memories," she said softly, sweeping her flashlight across the corridor ahead as she began walking again. "You're a lot nicer than usual."

----------

Pushing a large slab of concrete aside with a grunt, Trish grimaced at the wet webbing that clung to her skin as she squeezed through the opening into a larger chamber. Brushing spider silk off from her face, she scanned the chamber for signs of life, fully expecting to find herself in a den full of hungry demonic spiders. In truth, it wasn't far from that, though all the spiders she could see seemed to be focused on the eerie tableau taking place at the center of the room.

Back arched and arms hanging limply at his sides, Dante was bent back beneath a staggeringly beautiful woman, his mouth covered by her crimson lips and his body quaking as the muscles in her pale throat swallowed again and again. He was either half-unconscious or physically drained to the point that he could no longer retaliate, but either way Trish didn't exactly relish the sight of him being ravished by such a voluptuous female.

Disgusted, Trish finally pulled her gaze away enough to notice that Alastor was buried inside the demon's midsection, dark blood flowing from her wound and pooling at her feet. Approaching slowly, Trish skirted the circle of spiders until she found a decent opening. She summoned lightning to her fingertips and leapt up onto a shelf of rock, striking down a few spiders to clear the way before she landed on the ground next to the succubus.

"Dinner time's over," she snapped as she ripped the succubus away from Dante, sending energy sparking through the demon's body the moment she was no longer touching him.

The demon let loose an ear piercing wail and threw Trish off of her with surprising strength. Sparing only a glance at Dante's immobile body sprawled over the ground, Trish dodged a second attack and kicked at Alastor's hilt—which was still absurdly buried halfway through the demon—and brought a fresh surge of dark blood to the surface.

Snarling, the succubus pulled the sword from her abdomen and flung it across the chamber toward Trish. "How dare you interrupt my meal?" she howled.

Rolling agilely out of the way, Trish pulled out her guns and started taking aim at the spiders quickly surrounding her. She had only picked off a few before she felt spiny legs slash at her from behind, poisonous fangs simultaneously sinking into her shoulder. Electrocuting the spider with an explosion of energy before it could get away, Trish sent other bursts of lightning cutting through the air toward the closest arachnids. The sooner they were out of the way, the sooner she could focus on the real target.

The succubus was already turning her attention back toward Dante, but Trish wasn't about to let her get there first, dispatching the spiders still in her way as she raced back toward the demon. Despite her injury, the succubus moved with blinding speed—at least as quickly as Trish—and it was only Trish's freshness to the fight that allowed her to keep up. Firing her guns at the demon and forcing her away from Dante, Trish charged the bullets with magical energy, giving them extra punch as they sailed through the air.

"No! You can't have him," the succubus snarled, flinging a handful of her own blood at Trish as she narrowly avoided the bullets. "He belongs to me now."

Gasping when the blood burned into her skin like acid, Trish hesitated just long enough for the succubus to pin her back against the slab of concrete behind her and twist her guns out of her grasp. Yanking at her hair, the succubus pulled Trish's head back cruelly and a hint of fear raced along Trish's spine. "I thought you preferred men," she hissed.

"What I prefer is demon blood," the succubus retorted, crushing her mouth over Trish's before she could retaliate.

The sensation was difficult to describe, simultaneously agonizing and exhilarating. Trish found she couldn't even try to pull away as her body went limp, her strength draining away with every thrust of the demon's tongue, but the part that bothered her the most was that she didn't really seem to mind. Her reaction was illogical and against her very being, but the demon seemed to have some sort of glamour that impaired judgment.

A wordless cry from Dante brought her back to reality and she twisted out of reach the moment she saw Dante's demonic aspect tearing the succubus away. Dante was struggling fiercely with the demon, but he would only be able to keep up his strength so long in his weakened state. Leaping into the air, she noted a displaced chunk of rock looming high over their heads and focused her attention on dislodging it. Pounding at the weak spot in the ceiling and hoping she wouldn't end up burying them all alive in the process, Trish watched cracks begin to spread across the rock.

Screaming Dante's name in warning, she skidded to a stop on the rubble-strewn ground as the large chunk of rock finally gave way. The succubus wailed in pain as the rock crushed her beneath its weight and her cry cut off abruptly in the middle; if the blow hadn't actually killed her, it had at least put her out of commission for the moment.

Cement continued to crumble and rocks and debris came raining down from the ceiling, choking the air with dust. Coughing as she stumbled away from the dust cloud, Trish searched among the fallen remains for Dante's silver head. She found him struggling to his feet on the opposite side of the chamber, leaning heavily on Alastor for support. Luckily, he had heard her cry and anticipated her action, rolling to the side the moment the ceiling began to collapse. While she knew his reaction was simply due to good instincts, part of her felt a bit of pleasure at the thought that they still knew each other well enough to practically reach each other's minds in the heat of a battle.

Small rocks continued to tumble from the weakened ceiling and the groaning of the walls around them made her increasingly uneasy. "The rest of it probably won't last much longer," she told him, looking up the cracks spreading slowly across the broken ceiling as she pulled one of his arms over her shoulders.

"Nostalgic, isn't it?" Dante asked with a strained smile, his skin smeared with blood and his hair hanging in dirty clumps around his face.

Trish raised an eyebrow at him as she pulled him toward the exit, trying not to notice how much of his weight she was having to support.

"Escaping a place that's falling down on top of us, you know?" he continued weakly. "We've done this a few times."

Shaking her head and tightening her grip on his waist, she retorted, "You get sentimental about the strangest things."

* * *

**Author's Note: I know…it's kind of a weird place to leave them. Sorry about that. Especially with the two Dantes running around. I'll try to get the next chapter up fairly soon so you won't have to be left hanging too long. **


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